


The Perfect Booth

by LeannieBananie



Series: Skyhold Fire Department [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Coffee, F/M, Falling In Love, Herald's Rest, Mild Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:59:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4655265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeannieBananie/pseuds/LeannieBananie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra and Varric are reluctantly falling love with coffee, secrets, and a really fluffy cat.</p><p>*Updated title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra has become a regular at the Herald's Rest, but then "her" booth is stolen by a charismatic author and in an attempt to reclaim her seat, she tries to glare him to death, while he discovers the joy of antagonizing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was meant to be Part 2, but Part 1 is being stubborn. Once I get all the kinks worked out of the real Part 1, this story might get some minor edits/updates, but nothing earth shattering. Anyway, holler at me if you see any mistakes and kudos/comments are appreciated!

It was Cassandra’s spot. The corner most booth, painted teal with cozy gray seats that allowed her to sink into them, bury her nose in her book, and forget that anything but that wonderful, fictional world existed. She was there so often –almost every day off– that Elissa joked that they would have to put a sign up that reserved it for her use only. Cassandra was tempted to take her up on it, but since her spot was always open when she came in, she saw no need.

It was the perfect place to observe the entire café from behind the cover of her favorite book and though she had become a familiar, consistent fixture, everyone left her alone to munch on pastries and drink her white chocolate mocha with extra whipped cream in peace. Which was why, today, when she turned from the counter with drink in hand to find someone sitting in her booth, she didn’t know what to do.

She couldn’t very well demand he give the spot back, could she? After all, contrary to Elissa’s teasing, it didn’t have her name on it, a suggestion she was now regretting not carrying out. Cassandra momentarily floundered, tearing her glare from the offensive man perched in _her_ booth, glasses low on his nose as he tapped away furiously on his computer. Left with no other choice, she settled on a table made more for temporary visits, with hard chairs not comfortable enough to sit at for the hours she preferred to stay. Consoling herself that it would be free tomorrow, she settled in to read her book and put the booth-stealing cretin from her mind.

.

.

He was there again! Cassandra fumed silently, staring angrily at the man from her unfortunate seat by the door, where it’s near constant open and close let in a draft and distracted her from reading. This was the fourth day in a row that he had taken her seat! She was so agitated that even the illicit promise of her favorite book, Swords & Shields couldn’t comfort her. Setting it aside she attempted to covertly observe the trespasser as he typed on his computer, oblivious to her censure.

He was rather short, even sitting she could tell that, but then again, not many people were as tall as she was. However, he made up for his height, in sheer magnetism. Though he was tucked into _Cassandra’s_ corner, focused completely on his computer, he seemed to draw the gaze of many of the customers who came and went. Not that Cassandra was foolish enough to succumb to his dubious charms, such as they were. Half of his shaggy blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he had several earrings in both ears, plus a thick gold necklace about his neck. It should have made him look like a slick car salesman, but it didn’t and as she was unwilling to investigate _that_ thought any further, she left her bag on the table and made her way over to Elissa and Cullen.

“Who is he?” Without preamble or niceties she asked her question, folding her arms across her chest defensively with a belligerent expression on her face. Elissa merely raised a perfect eyebrow, but Cullen spoke first, wiping his cocoa covered hands on his apron as he did so.

“He who?” Cassandra made a frustrated noise and with a less than subtle motion, she gestured to her corner booth, tone full of disdain.

“Him!” They exchanged a glance that spoke volumes and it didn’t escape Cassandra. She made another impatient noise in the back of her throat in an attempt to hurry them along. Elissa spoke cautiously, exchanging another pointed look with Cullen.

“His name is Varric. Any particular reason why you ask?” That name needled at the back of her mind, but she brushed it off impatiently; she was more concerned with who the interloper was and less interested in why that name sounded so familiar.

“Elissa, he is in my seat!” That drew a laugh from the other woman, but she attempted to stifle it when Cassandra turned her legendary frosty glare towards her. Cullen had decided to bow out of this particular conversation and hid his own smile by turning back to his work, starting to chop a large bar of dark chocolate into random shards.

“I’m sorry, but what do you want us to do? Kick him out? Refuse to serve him? Cassandra, why don’t you go and talk to him. He might be willing to move, but you’ll never know if you don’t ask.”

“I suppose.” She agreed suspiciously, wondering if they had an ulterior motive, but ultimately she brushed it off. She moved away from the counter and missed it when Elissa nudged Cullen in the ribs and he grinned unabashedly back, the smile making him look years younger.

.

.

Watching Cassandra’s long legged, lithe form retreating, Elissa leaned in to whisper close to Cullen’s ear.

“Does she really not know who he is?"

“I guess not, but I don’t understand how she doesn’t know. She’s read all his books!” They watched with almost morbid fascination as she stopped at the booth, the tension radiating from her shoulders was palpable from across the room. “Do you think he’ll tell her?”

“No, he values his anonymity that much is clear, but I wonder what she’s going to do when she does figure it out.”

.

.

Contrary to what Cassandra believed, Varric was not oblivious to Cassandra. How could he be? Since that first day and every day since, her glare had cut through him and it had taken every ounce of self-preservation he had to not meet that fiery gaze. He normally wasn’t attracted to exceptionally tall women; because not only was he a short man, but he was also a vain one and tall women tended to make him feel awkward and well, short. Maker, though, how could he not be attracted to her? Tall and lean with cheekbones that could cut glass, the scar on her cheek told of hidden stories, passionate eyes, and a smile that hinted at an unexpectedly romantic heart. _Shit_ , he shook himself mentally, that sounded like something out of his crappy romance serial.

He turned his gaze away from the counter and made a show out of staring at his computer, but in reality he tracked her progress across the room from the corner of his eyes. This would be the first time someone approached him here. Oh, they knew who he was, especially Cullen and Elissa, but that was one of the things he loved about this place. This corner booth provided the perfect vantage point to people watch, but was secluded enough that everyone left him alone, until now. He returned his eyes to the screen, tweaking this sentence or that, ignoring her approach until she stood right next to him; he could have reached out and touched her unease it was so thick. Instead he reached up and pulled his glasses off his nose to look up at her.

“Can I help you Seeker?” She started in surprise and her brows coming together in a rather adorable frown. She let out a disgruntled noise before speaking, her voice firm and thick with some sort of accent, Nevarran perhaps? He was even attracted to her accent, _Maker help me_ , he thought, startled from his wayward thoughts by her terse answer.

“You are in my seat.”

“Oh really? It’s Varric by the way.” He lounged back against the booth and arched an eyebrow at her, watching her blush as she realized how silly that sounded. He made no move to ease her embarrassment, instead enjoying how she wavered between stern and flustered.

“I mean, used to sit here, before you.” Varric just smirked and waited for her to continue as she grew more flustered. “This used to be where I sat, until you came here. Would you move?” Varric’s grin grew as she attempted to ask for her booth back nicely, but it came out seven different kinds of abrupt and demanding instead.  


“I don’t know Seeker, I’ve grown awfully fond of this booth.”

“Why are you calling me that?” She was bossy and he perversely liked it, almost as much as he liked teasing the hot-tempered reaction out of her. Varric bit back a laugh, but couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he shrugged idly and replied.

“It’s just this thing I do. Nicknames. You’re very determined, seeking your seat back, so Seeker. It’s not my best, but it suits you.”  


“That is not my name and I wish you would desist.” He shouldn’t derive such pleasure from riling her up and seeing that frown on her face. It would make most people shake in their boots, but he liked seeing her flush in irritation, forehead furrowed in confusion, glaring at him with eyes that could slice him to ribbons. She shifted uncomfortably and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking how a shield protects a warrior. “So you refuse to move.” Varric shrugged again, enjoying watching her temper spike behind her eyes. She made another disgusted noise and then turned sharply on her heel and marched away without another word. Only when she had grabbed her bag and left did Varric let himself relax in _his_ booth and laugh.

This was going to be fun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric calls a cease fire, Cassandra blushes a lot, and they both realize they're in deep sh*t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Mild Spoilers!!  
> -Some dialogue (mostly paraphrased, but still) and a little from Guilty Pleasures.

Elissa poured Varric another cup of coffee and picked up his empty plate, then paused just long enough to draw his eyes away from his computer.

“Elissa?” Their eyes met and he wanted to flinch, but steeled himself against her disapproval.

“How long are you going to antagonize her?” 

“Antagonize who?” He asked innocently, setting his glasses aside as he turned to give her his full attention. She made an impatient noise, not unlike one Cassandra would make and gestured at him with the half full coffee carafe. 

“Don’t bullshit me Varric. I’m not someone you can fool with your words. For a writer your sure do manage to talk a lot without actually saying anything. Cassandra. When are you going to stop antagonizing Cassandra?” ” Her voice was surprisingly bitter and though he could practically see the story dancing behind her words, he knew better than to pry. Instead he held up his hands in defeat, caving under the pressure that was Elissa. She was not someone you knowingly deceived. She was as strong as Cassandra, but worldlier, less naïve, and more blunt, which made her deadlier and sharper. She was protective of her friends, but surprisingly cynical and behind the wall she presented to the world, he could see insecurity and loneliness lurking in the shadows.

“I don’t have a timeline established okay? I wanted to see how long it would take before she breaks and tries to strangle me.” He admitted sheepishly, sipping at his coffee, appreciating the brew and Elissa’s chuckle at his honesty.

“Well at least you’re honest. Put her out of her misery and ask her out soon alright? Before she self-combusts and burns the shop down, because I don’t know if insurance will cover that.” Varric recoiled at her retort and stumbled over his silver tongue, feeling it turn leaden and thick in his mouth.

“I-I don’t know what you- I don’t want-” She impatiently waved away his words with the carafe again, hot coffee sloshing dangerously, and pinned him with another look from unnerving, perceptive blue eyes.

“A) Quit lying to me, B) quit lying to yourself and C) save it for someone you can bullshit. I don’t want to hear it and she deserves better than someone who can’t make up their damn mind.” Leaving him uncharacteristically speechless and mulling over her words, she turned on her heel and walked swiftly away.

Moments later, the subject of his musings wandered in and immediately her gaze went to the disputed corner where he sat. This is a dance they had been doing for two weeks, where she pointedly ignored him, but still managed to glare at him the entire time she remained in the shop. She had yet to approach him since that first time, but Varric had taken an inordinate amount of pleasure in smirking at her every time they did make eye contact. It usually resulted in a frown and her deliberately returning her attention to her book. Today however, with sugary drink concoction and pastry in hand, when her eyes glanced over him he motioned her over. She hesitated, clearly suspicious before warily making her way towards him.

When she stopped next to him he spoke,

“Seek- Cassandra, I have a proposition for you.” She refused to look at him, mouth in a firm line as she glared at the wall as if it had done something to insult her, not even asking how he knew her name. He had coaxed it out of Cullen, of course.

“Speak then.” Unconcerned by her brusque tone, he quickly cleared off part of the table and motioned for her to set her things down, and while rearranging his own pile of papers he continued.

“I’ve done some thinking,” He paused while she cautiously did as he had indicated and sat rigidly in the seat opposite him, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t see why we couldn’t share this booth. It’s plenty big enough for the both of us and if it stops you from glaring daggers at me from across the room I’d be glad to share.” The side of her mouth kicked up and she quipped,

“Yes, now I can just glare daggers from across the table and everyone can quit worrying about stepping into the line of fire.” Her dry humor caught him off guard and startled a surprised laugh out of him to which she answered with a hesitant smile of her own.

“Seeker, was that a joke?” He teased her and for once her face didn’t form into a formidable frown at his terrible nickname for her, she just made another of those noises from the back of her throat and he supposed it was her way of telling him that he was impossible. Or an asshole, either way. “So what do you say? I’ll give you half of the table and we settle for joint custody? For the safety of all involved?”

This time, instead of avoiding his gaze, she met it with a direct one of her own. Her expression spoke of a certain level of mistrust, but he could understand that. How could you trust someone who blatantly stole your booth in a bakery and then refused to give it up? Obviously that was the act of a scoundrel and a heartless bastard. Fighting his growing grin, Varric extended a hand which Cassandra met it with her own and he was pleased to feel her skin, warm and calloused against his own. 

Her grip was firm and sure as they shook, but she retracted her hand far too quickly for his liking. He clenched his fist reflexively as he pulled away, trying to capture the feeling of her palm in his and keep it there, but the ghost of the simple handshake taunted him and made his skin itch. Under the table he shook out his hand and rubbed it against his leg, flashing her a placid smile before turning his attention to his computer in an attempt to ignore the teasing hint of her soap and vanilla scent. 

_Shit, I’m in trouble._

.

.

_Maker preserve me, I’m in trouble._

Cassandra cautiously relaxed against the booth, picking at her pastry, it’s flaky, delicate crust not able to distract her from the man across the booth, much to her chagrin. If she had thought him magnetizing from across the room, at three feet he was devastating, but he seemed unaware of her frustrating attraction. There, she had admitted it. He was absolutely insufferable, cocky, frustrating, and a booth-stealer, but she, Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, was attracted to him.

Barely stifling her groan of dismay, she pulled her book out and flipped open the well-worn cover, hoping the familiar words would sooth the ragged edges of her nerves. However, to her chagrin and frustration, they helped only marginally. She was still irritatingly aware of his presence across the booth, the soft, but constant tapping of his keyboard, punctuated by the firmer clack of the spacebar. The way he absently pushed his glasses back up his nose, the pair desperately in need of refitting. She shifted restlessly and redoubled her efforts to keep her wandering eyes on her book, but they treacherously raised themselves against her will to peek at him from over the top of her book.

He was handsome, in a rugged, broken nose, craggy jaw, and square chin sort of way and not at all like her usual type. She thought of Galyan, how polished and boldly charming he had been, but polite and respectful as well. Compared to Varric, Gaylan seemed rather boring, even though she knew it was uncharitable to compare the two men. 

Varric was roughhewn and though he was charming, he wielded it heavily, like a cross bow, sending out sharp bolts that struck nerves she didn’t know she possessed and sent her temper spiraling out of control. Years of practice had tempered her, giving her greater control over her emotions, but it was just another thing about him that irked her; that he made her so easily lose her hard won control and then because he was so damnably charming _and_ handsome he thought he could flash his chest hair and grin and worm his way out of it. Which, of course, he could.

Cassandra grumbled under her breath as her eyes raked across his chest, his V-neck red shirt doing nothing to hide the expanse of hair on his chest. It was the same faintly red-blond color as the hair that was pulled back into his customary pony-tail and she wondered if he ever wore it loose. She self-consciously touched her own short, dark strands and stared almost wistfully at his longer length locks. Would it be soft to touch? Cassandra was startled from her contemplation by amused gray eyes meeting hers, the corners crinkling in laughter as he looked at her knowingly. She blushed furiously and quickly brought her eyes back to her book, but it was too late.

“Can I help you with something Seeker?” She made a disgruntled sound and rolled her eyes at his ridiculous nickname for her. 

“No and I asked you to stop calling me that.” He shrugged indifferently, ignoring her glower while leaning back in the booth and stretching, lacing his fingers together behind his head. It irritated her that she immediately noticed how fit he was and how that position made his arms bulge and drew his shirt tight across his chest. For someone who seemed to do nothing but sit in a bakery devouring pastries and coffee he was inexplicably well muscled and strong, with enticing broad shoulders and arms that rippled – _rippled_ – when he moved.

Varric ignored her baleful glare and motioned to the book she held clenched in white knuckled fingers.

“What are you reading?” Instantly she was swamped by embarrassment and tension, so her answer was filled with venom.

“It’s nothing!” He blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the vehemence in her voice, but he wasn’t deterred, just slightly more cautious as he teased,

“What is it some sordid romance novel?” His surprise turned into ruefulness when her face immediately bloomed with color and she somehow managed to clench her jaw even tighter. Her entire body went rigid and if he had thought her glare fierce before, now it seemed to demand that he catch fire where he sat.

“It’s just- reports.” She stammered through her teeth, all while refusing to meet his gaze. 

It was her one guilty pleasure. In her life filled with work and duties and familial obligations, her love of smutty literature was the _one_ thing that she had that relaxed her. Oh she had training, working out, and it had surprised her to realize that she had friends at the fire station, but no one knew of this. As much as she loved diving into her favorite books time and time again, she was embarrassed by her unseemly addiction. It was inappropriate and frivolous for someone of her station and discipline to read novels filled with erotic scenes and tales of whirlwind romances that weren’t meant for her. Varric arched a single eyebrow and chuckled dryly, his voice rough with laughter as he responded sarcastically,

“You’re an excellent liar Seeker.” He enjoyed the disgusted noise that erupted from her throat and how when she finally met his eyes they were filled with something frustrated and scorching and hot and just shy of loathing. Anything was better than the look of shame that had been in her eyes.

“It’s just a book.”

“I can see that.” Cassandra clenched her jaw again and held out the book with a resigned sigh, her shoulders dropping in defeat in the face of Varric’s unrelenting inquiry. She knew he would be like a dog with a bone, tenacious and unwilling to let it go now that he had sensed her resistance. She didn’t know how she knew, maybe it had something to do with the cunning that fleetingly revealed itself behind the easy going charm that dominated his expression. He took one quick glance at the cover and she thought she saw shock and was that _remorse_? It came and went so quickly that she couldn’t be sure and if it was there, he quickly hid it behind the façade of charm again. Grin in place, he let out another chuckle. Cassandra was starting to hate that sound and what its gravelly tone did to her heart.

“Swords & Shields huh? Never would have pegged you for the romance type.” As always, he teased, hoping the glib words would ease her discomfort. However, instead of relaxing she crossed her arms over her chest and angrily defended herself.

“Why must it be an accusation? Romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. It is _passion_. It is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. What is _not_ to like about that.” 

For once in his life Varric was truly taken aback. He was not a man that was easily made speechless, but her own passionate defense of his book and her enjoyment of it gave him pause. He suppose he deserved her censure, after all she was right, he had made an assumption about her based off her looks and what little he knew about her. She appeared to be made out of the strongest metals, hard and sharp and unyielding, but this one little fact -the book in her hand- changed all his perceptions about her. It allowed him to see the soft heart he had once suspected her of having hidden behind a taciturn exterior. It allowed him to see the yearning in her whisky brown eyes when she spoke of romance and passion, but even with those revelations Varric could only utter one word.

“Oh.” 

Her flush deepened and with a definite sense of finality she angled herself away and raised her book to effectively hide her face from him. Varric felt like a boorish oaf; while he enjoyed antagonizing her, his intentions had only ever been to tease and charm, never to wound. He had wanted them to become better acquainted and to convince her that he wasn’t a complete scoundrel and instead he had managed to embarrass her, make her angry, and then the cherry on his shit cake was when he had accidentally ridiculed her romantic heart. Feeling like a cad, he attempted to fix what his poor utterance had wrecked. “Cassandra, whether you believe me or not, I like that about you.” 

She sneered at him.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I happen to be exceptionally observant and past that hard shell you show the world, I see and _like_ that you’re the romantic type. But by all means, protect your reputation and be mad at me. Couldn’t have the locals thinking you’d gone soft.” With that he resumed his work, feeling unreasonably grumpy and a little too vulnerable, too open to her eyes for his liking.

Cassandra gaped at Varric, her face was flushed and her heart was thumping erratically in her chest. They didn’t truly know each other and yet this infuriating man managed to make her angrier than she’s ever been one moment and reduce her to a puddle of racing, giddy, school-girl nerves the next. Attempting to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she adopted a stern tone, but a secretive, pleased smile played about her lips as she quietly thanked him.

“Thank you Varric.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end, AKA Varric is a conniving little shit.
> 
> Teeny, tiny, dialogue spoilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. I know I said "soonish" but that turned into me having surgery, my dog having surgery, pumpkin festivals, and quilting. This is probably my least favorite chapter, I struggled with the whole "I'm angry at you" thing, but I'm done picking at it so here it is.
> 
> Holler at me if you see any mistakes and comments/kudos are awesome.
> 
> Also, coming soon: groveling and sex!

Two more weeks followed their merger; two mostly peaceful weeks, where Varric got less work done than he was accustomed to, but he laughed more too, with Cassandra’s dry humor always catching him off guard. They also talked about almost everything; books, families, their work, and their lives. He knew her family was absolutely loaded, and that while she had responsibilities, she insisted on being independent from them. She knew that he was a writer, but for all her love of his book, she had yet to connect the dots and for that he was both grateful and intensely guilty. The entire situation felt like a time-bomb set to explode in his face at any moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth.

The truth meant that she would go back to nearly hating him if he was lucky –he knew he wouldn’t be and he selfishly couldn’t bring himself to do it. Time had brought them closer, he teased and riled her sure, but he also brought about blushes and sweet, soft smiles that didn’t come easily for her, but were at home on her face. They lightened everything about her, softened harsh lines and warmed doubtful eyes. He especially loved the way her face lit up when he brought her small gifts. It had started innocuously enough, a thin, delicately wrought silver bookmark he thought she’d enjoy, but he’d quickly become addicted to making her blush with shy appreciation. So he kept bringing gifts, effectively courting her, because he enjoyed making her happy almost as much as he enjoyed engaging her fiery temper.

That wasn’t to say that they always agreed and there had been arguments. Somehow they knew just what to say to hit the other where it hurt, sharp jabs that landed squarely below the belt. However, those moments were few, spaced out by companionable silences and lively, playful debates. The truth was that he enjoyed for her company far more than he would care to admit to anyone, let alone himself. He cared for her, with her thick accent and that ridiculous braid and he was scared as hell to tell her the truth, for he knew better than most that actions had consequences.

Varric rubbed a rough hand across his face and groaned quietly, feeling the start of a headache. Thinking about Bianca always gave him a headache. _Shit._ They had been high school sweethearts, but her family had pressured her into a marriage that gave her the social status and leverage she had needed to further her career. Unable to end what was between them, they had engaged in a torrid affair that had lasted for years, even though he could count the times they had actually spent any time together on one hand. During those years, he had eventually realized that he would never truly know if her marriage was a result of her family’s ambitions or her own and that awareness weighed heavily upon him. Finally deciding that he deserved better, Varric had ended the affair, but not before it had stolen irreplaceable years off his life. Actions had consequences.

He pushed himself away from his kitchen table; he needed something stronger than coffee to give himself the courage for this type of self-reflection. If Cassandra found out- no, _when_ , Cassandra found out- Varric let out another groan. If she found out from anyone other than him, she would probably never forgive him. Though he hadn’t _technically_ lied, he knew she wouldn’t see it that way. She had opened up and shared the most vulnerable parts of herself with him, her secret passionate nature and her love for smutty romance novels. _His_ smutty romance novels to be exact and he just _knew_ that she would feel that he betrayed her trust. Which he had in a roundabout way, as a lie of omission was still a lie. Feeling troubled and angry at himself, he grabbed his phone and sent her a quick message, asking to meet her at the Herald’s Rest. Hopefully, if the Maker was with him, Cassandra would be reluctant to cause a scene when he told her if they were in public –if he was lucky, but he knew he wouldn’t be.

.

.

Cassandra openly grinned at her phone, a giddy blush on her face and her skin prickling, goosebumps raising in excitement. The past two weeks had been indescribable and if she were honest, the most enjoyable in recent memory. Her life had been staid and solid and routine before meeting Varric. She had had work, training, duty, and family, and while she hadn’t minded, it had been lonely and a little boring, even with her friends at the station. She tended not to see them outside of work, which meant she spent quite a bit of time alone.

That was no longer the case. It was as if Varric had shined a light into her life, illuminating the dusty corners of her heart and reminding her that she wanted a man who would sweep her off her feet and give her flowers and read her poetry. A man who would make her laugh and blush, a man who would make her feel _alive_ and like a woman, someone to be cherished and loved and not overlooked.

She had secretly yearned for that ideal, the romance and passion for almost all of her adult life and somewhere along the line she had resigned herself to never having it, even as she resolved never to settle for less. The façade she presented to the world of a strong woman with an iron will hid her true feelings and none had taken the time to see past that, until now.

Eager to see him, to maybe let him know how she felt, if only a little bit, Cassandra hurriedly packed her things and made her way to the stairs of the station. Alistair and Krem were lounging around the TV, watching some trivia game show and she murmured a quick goodbye, impatient to be on her way.

“Off to see your favorite resident author?” Alistair called out, his goofy, easygoing grin fixed in place, but something about his knowing smile gave her pause.

“What do you mean by that?” She asked cautiously, shifting her duffel bag into a more comfortable position. He gave her a confused look, then looked to Krem who just shrugged and went back to the TV, leaving Alistair to fend for himself. He floundered momentarily before answering warily.

“I meant Varric.” She arched an eyebrow and waited for him to elaborate, which he did slowly. “He’s the author of your favorite book.” Again she waited and this time Alistair held up his hands defensively, looking rather frantically in Krem’s direction. “I assumed you knew! How could you not know, I mean, he’s your favorite author.”

“Alistair.” He paled visibly under his tanned skin and said in a rush,

“He’s Varric Tethras, author of Swords & Shields.” She blushed, assuming that no one at the station had known about her little guilty pleasure, but then what he said sank in and a chill swept over her.

“ _What?_ ” She asked incredulously, angrily, her flush of embarrassment turning to one of betrayal and hurt. He couldn’t be, she refused to believe it. How many Varric’s could there be in Thedas? There had to be more than just the one –there just had to be. He would have told her the truth if he really was that Varric. He wouldn’t do this to her, he wouldn’t lie and humiliate her and make her feel like a fool. Would he?

Distantly she was aware of Alistair and Krem talking, of Krem pushing her into a vacant chair and Alistair urging her to drink the water he had pressed into her hand. Robotically she did as she was told, feeling cold and numb while her stomach turned in on itself, leaving her nauseous and faint.

He had _lied_ to her. They had talked about her favorite books and he was the first person she had ever admitted to about her love for Swords  & Shields. She had shared her deepest vulnerabilities with him, not just her choice of literature, but her innermost desire –true love and instead of telling her the truth, he had continued to raise her expectations to dizzying heights.

He had looked into her heart and seen the things she had given up on and then he had the audacity to offer them to her. Companionship, love, passion, laughter, all within her grasp, close enough to touch and then yanked away by his thoughtlessness. He had played her for the fool and had probably laughed about how naïve she was and how easily she had been deceived. Sitting there, all Cassandra saw was the shattered pieces of her foolish heart and the improbable dreams she had been secretly fostering.

Cassandra felt hollow and heart-sick with the realization that she would be alone again.

It felt like she was moving underwater. Everything was slow and fuzzy and all she could hear was the buzzing in her own ears and the constant echo of the word _alone_ as it rattled around inside her aching heart. As she mulled over his betrayal, the lead in her stomach turned to molten lava, setting her aflame from the inside out and making her burn. Like a rubber band snapping back into place, any lingering humiliation turned to rage and her blood surged through her veins so quickly that she practically vibrated with the energy of it. How dare he? How _dare_ he!? Brushing aside Alistair and Krem and their protests, she left her bag on the floor and stormed down the stairs.

.

.

Alistair and Krem stood on the landing, staring at the point where Cassandra had just disappeared. Alistair was the first to give voice to their confusion.

“What just happened?” Krem rubbed the shorn back of his head and shrugged helplessly, he was just as confused as Alistair was. “Did she really not know?”

“Apparently not, but Varric is going to be in a world of hurt when she gets a hold of him. Smooth move Alistair.” They both eased back into their seats, the lure of the TV too strong to deny and besides it wasn’t their problem, it was Varric’s. Alistair threw one last lopsided grin at Krem, eyes laughing and his expression holding only the tiniest amount of remorse.

“Whoops.”

.

.

When Cassandra entered the Herald’s Rest her anger was barely contained, held in place by a fragile band of self-control. Elissa started to wave in greeting, but her expression froze and her hand dropped when she realized that Cassandra’s furious face could mean only one thing – she knew. Blessedly, the café was empty and she rushed over, giving Cassandra a wide birth while shutting the door and flipping the sign to “closed”, before ducking into the kitchen to find Cullen, just in case.

Varric had been startled by the door flying open and now he stood transfixed by the force of Cassandra’s rage.

_Well, shit._

He closed his lap top and eased to his feet, holding his hands out in an attempt to diffuse the situation, but it was no use. She was hurt and aching for a fight and he was just as determined not to give her one. She moved towards him with purpose, gathering strength with every step in his direction and it took all his considerable self-control not to back away from the hurt radiating off of her when she stopped in front of him. He did however, flinch when she leaned forwards and jabbed a finger in his direction, hissing,

“You knew the truth all along!” All good intention of not engaging her flew out the window when she spoke. Her self-righteous ferocity sparked his own temper, even though some small part of his brain knew she had a point, but she stood there glaring down at him and his shame rose up to meet it, leaving him no choice but to protect himself.

“You’re damn right I did!” He snarled back, swatting her hand aside and moving away from the booth. Heat and sparks flared up where their skin met, but he ignored it, refusing to be distracted from his own defensive anger. He was wrong –he had hid the truth– but she had attacked first, rather than asking him about it and his pride stung from her accusations. A cooler head wouldn’t have retaliated with anger, but she made him lose his calm even though all his temper did was fan the flames higher.

If Cassandra had been able to step back and view the situation objectively, she would have cautioned herself against letting her resentment and hurt speak for her. However, that had never been a strong point for her; growing up she had been constantly reminded to think before acting and that she was far too brash for her own good.

This moment proved to be no exception and without thought she grabbed and hurled the first thing her fist closed around, to her surprise it was a hefty sugar dispenser. Her arm was strong and her aim was near to true –it sailed mere inches above Varric’s head. He was saved by his lack of natural height and roguish reflexes that had him ducking before his brain had fully processed the incoming object. However, his quick dodge only served to infuriate her more.

“You conniving little shit! You lied to me! You- you gave me gifts and made me laugh and made me _care_ for you and then you lied! I told you things I’ve never told anyone before, I trusted you, and you couldn’t even tell me the truth. How could you?”

Her voice broke, her accent heavy and garbled with the tears that gleamed in her eyes. She withdrew, folding her arms protectively across her chest and pressing one trembling hand to her quivering lips in an effort to stem the flow of words from her mouth. She had never in her life felt so twisted around by someone so close to her and it made the betrayal that much worse that she _cared_ for him. Maker damn him, she cared.

Varric, for his part stood there saying nothing. He stood there, speechless, his brain barely able to process the emotions and words that Cassandra had presented to him. He watched in a fog, as the strongest woman he knew broke down, because of _him_.

Actions have consequences.

He watched her rub a hand over her face and then turn towards the door, shoulders slumped in defeat and it finally crashed over him that she was leaving. His own voice broke as he called out to her.

“Ca- Cass! Wait, please let me explain!” She didn’t slow, didn’t stop, just threw one quick, tear-stained, disgusted look over her shoulder and he almost wished he was close enough to hear the derisive little noise he knew she made while she did it. He made one last desperate plea, starting to rush after her even though he knew it was too late. “Cassandra!” But the door slammed shut on his appeal and Elissa was there placing a staying hand on his shoulder.

“Let her go Varric. She needs time to cool off.” Her voice was sympathetic, but reproachful and he knew he deserved it.

“Shit!” He yelled. What had he done? He had been unwilling to risk their relationship and possibly hurt her feelings to tell her the truth and for it had been for absolutely nothing. It was twisted and backwards and wrong, but it was done and she was hurt and it was all his fault. Varric sank into a chair and stared unseeingly at the floor, absently aware of the aching emptiness in his chest. “What have I done?” He whispered. Elissa knelt by his side and rested a hand on his knee.

“Give her time and then you _need_ to tell her the truth. It’s the only thing that might fix this.”

“Andraste’s tits! I should have told her weeks ago, I just-” His lips closed off over whatever excuse he was going to offer up and he sneered at himself. “It doesn’t matter, it’s done and now she’ll probably never trust me again.”

“You know her better than any of us and probably better than she knows herself. Plus you’re resourceful, you’ll think of something.” She tried for levity, giving him a half-hearted smile before leaving him to try and think of some way out the shit storm he had created.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric tries courting, fantasizes about boobs, and hates cats. Cassandra tries to stay angry on principle, reads terrible poetry, and eats chocolate. Solas. . . Solas is just irritating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as much groveling as promised, after all Cassandra doesn't really want to be angry, she wants to be in love.
> 
> Also: language and tiny Cassandra romance spoilers.
> 
> Let me know if you see any mistakes and kudos/comments are welcomed!

Varric leaned his forehead against the door and pounded his fist against it, the repetitive motion making his fist numb.

“Seeker!” He cajoled, trying to coax her out of her apartment and calm her like a wild animal in a trap. “Cassandra.” His tone was softer, more desperate and he halted momentarily in his assault on the door to press an ear against it and listen for any signs of life. 

He faintly heard a scuffle, maybe a foot against the floor, and a plaintive meow –she had a cat? Those sounds faded and silence reigned again, so he knocked once more with renewed vigor now that he knew she was inside.

It had been three long, lonely weeks since she had found out the truth. Three weeks where Cassandra blatantly avoided him; frequenting the Herald’s Rest when she knew he wouldn’t be there and then refusing to go when he began anticipating her tactics. He would watch her approached the door and upon spying him through the glass, her mouth would tighten, her eyes would narrow, and then she would walk away without a backwards glance. Varric was tired of it and so he had wheedled her address out of a reluctant Elissa and drove straight over to her apartment.

His new strategy was obviously going quite well, because here he was loitering in the hall, trying to be discrete as possible while knocking vigorously against her door and repeatedly calling out her name. He figured that if he was annoying enough she’d open the door just to tell him to shut up, at least that’s what he was hoping for.

“Ca-ssan-dra!” He sang out, drawing out each syllable and punctuating them with the smack of his palm against the door. “Open the door!” A young bald man eyed him suspiciously as he strolled by, an extra-large coffee in one hand and a canvas bag overflowing with art supplies in the other. He juggled the bag and his coffee as he unlocked his door across the hall and gave him one long, last pointed look before closing the door firmly behind him. Varric turned his attention back to her door and slumped against it, drumming his fingertips across the rough surface as he contemplated his options. “Cassandra.”

His last quiet entreaty was answered by the door being opened so unexpectedly that he lost his balance and plowed head first into her chest. Under normal circumstances it would have been a delightful position to be in, but this time he felt like it didn’t help his cause any. 

Cassandra let out a grunt of surprise, before her strong hands shoved him forcefully away. He straightened himself and drank in the glorious sight of her. She looked fierce and angry and was holding her pride like a shield in front of her, deflecting whatever might have been showing on his face. She looked so gorgeous with her eyes glittering and the hard line of her jaw mimicking stone that he floundered, distracted by her rage infused beauty and the heavy weight of her glare. Her ire wasn’t so amusing when he knew he deserved it. Even her accent was thicker than normal and it practically dripped venom as she asked,

“Can I help you?” He leaned against the door frame and strategically placed a booted foot in the jamb so she wouldn’t be able to slam the door on him, without catching him in it –though on second thought– he shifted back a little, just in case.

“You could actually. I was hoping I could get some advice on this book I’m writing, Swords & Shields Part III. I was going to stop at Part II, but I heard I have this big fan that really-” His attempt at a joke was cut short by the scornful sound that was torn from her mouth. Her eyes had lit up, excitement briefly outshining the anger in them, but just as quickly she repressed it and her frosty glare returned. “I- Cass, please just let me explain.” She stepped back marginally, increasing the distance between them and then curled her slender arms around herself. She was effectively shutting him out, but he still had to try.

“Explain what exactly? How you lied to me? Humiliated me? Laughed at me?” She still knew how to prick his temper and he clenched his jaw over the hot retort that threatened to slip out. That anger was still evident in his response though and he saw her own jaw tighten further as he spoke.

“That’s the second time you’ve accused me of laughing at you and of all the things I have done, that is not one of them. I never laughed at you Cassandra and I don’t appreciate you saying otherwise.” She snorted cynically and used her foot to halt a massive, orange and cream striped cat from slipping through the open door. She issued it a short warning in the form of his name,

“Bear.”

With a malevolent, spine-chilling yowl the cat gave in and curled itself around her foot, swishing its tail threateningly against the floor and turning large, spiteful yellow eyes to Varric. Its gaze was unwavering and decidedly menacing as it stared right through his soul. Andraste's tits, he hated cats. 

“Maker Cass, I fucked up, is that what you want to hear? I screwed up and I’ve been kicking myself over it since you walked away. I should have told you the truth as soon as we met and I was going to, but then you opened up to me and I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you and destroying your trust. I was selfish, I wanted you for as long as I could have you and telling you meant I would lose you.” He saw _something_ flicker behind her stern mask, so he took a chance and leaned in, ignoring the warning growl from her guard-cat and pleaded, “What can I do to help us get through this? Cass, I’m not giving up on you, there is too much I didn’t get to do.”

He knew it wasn’t the time nor the place, but his voice held a sultry promise and his eyes reflected the heat he felt from thinking about her lips and those impossibly long legs. Her own eyes answered his, pupils going wide with need and a pretty blush covered her cheeks. She licked her lips and his eyes followed the gesture, unconsciously mimicking it as his tongue darted out to tease as they drew closer, hovering on the razors edge of a kiss. He reached for her, intent on tasting those lips that had taunted him for weeks and his heart leapt when she met him halfway, eyes locked on his own lips, when the door across the hall opened. He watched in dismay as she pulled back, her expression glassy eyed and dazed. He didn’t deny himself the pleasure of letting out a frustrated growl as he turned to glare at the intruder.

The bald man was unperturbed by his angry stare and stopped a few feet away with several slim volumes cradled lovingly in his hands. He rudely ignored Varric, but was respectful to Cassandra, inclining his head, before speaking in a sickeningly pleasant tone of voice.

“Cassandra, I wanted to return the book you lent me. It was a fascinating read. I also brought these along from my private collection, I thought you would enjoy them. They are a collection of rather obscure prose about a magical afterlife, demons, and spirits. I wrote my thesis on this very subject.” She took both books and nodded shortly to him, her faced flushed, but a slight smile softened her lips. Varric refused to acknowledge that the acute stab of pain he felt was jealousy, instead he redoubled his glare at the well-spoken man, who continued to ignore him.

“Thank you Solas, I appreciate it. I’ll return it once I’m done.” The less than subtle dismissal came with a silent exchange in which the bald man –Solas– asked if she needed assistance and Cassandra assured him that she was fine. He nodded to her and scratched the demon cat behind the ears which earned him a satisfied meow and loud purr. Blatantly smirking, he turned on his heel and brushed past Varric, spearing him with a knowing glance before entering his apartment and shutting the door. Silence surrounded them again, the heated spell from moments ago shattered and helplessly he reiterated his plea.

“What can I do to prove to you that I’m sorry?” Cassandra eyed him coolly, her lust stuffed firmly behind anger once more. She set the books aside and scooped up the furry monstrosity that lay over her feet; using him as a barrier she began to close the door, leaving Varric no choice but to step back or be crushed.

“Varric there is nothing you can do for me and what kind of apology would that be if I told you what I wanted?” Her last words resonated with him – _what did she want?_ Inspiration struck him with only inches to spare, the door was almost shut, but he knew she could still hear him so he cried out,

“Challenge accepted!”

.

.

The next day he sent her flowers, chocolates, and a hand penned note to the station. Not just one bouquet, but three massive ones of roses in all shades of reds and pinks and not just any chocolates, but a box of her favorites from a well-bribed Cullen. The heady floral scent was intoxicating and as Cassandra stared at the lush flowers, she wished she was strong enough to toss the lot into the trash. However, the gesture was like a stubborn vine taking advantage of a fissure in a boulder; it lodged itself in her anger and sent a crack straight through it. She smiled softly at the bouquets and reached out to stroke the velvety soft petal of the rose nearest to her. They _were_ exquisite. 

Tearing her attention away from the flowers, she lifted the cream colored envelop in her hands and opened it, pulling out the folded piece of paper. In a scratchy, barely legible hand she read, 

_“On aching branch do blossoms grow, the wind a hallowed breath._

_It carries the scent of honeysuckle, sweet as the lover’s kiss._

_It brings the promise of more tomorrows, of sighs and whispered bliss.”_

_\- P.S. Just so there is no misunderstanding, I am wooing you Seeker._

Cassandra couldn’t help the blush that suffused her face and she covered her mouth with a hand, trying to curb the giddy smile that was there. It was a ridiculous poem, terrible really, but he was _courting_ her! Giving her what she had always wanted, but assumed she would never have. Roses and romantic poems and tooth-rotting sweetness that made her heart unfurl itself from the tight ball of pain it had been in. 

Maybe, just maybe, she had overreacted. She thought back to how angry she had been three weeks ago and realized that it lingered mostly on principle, not because she was truly angry. She was still upset, he had lied, but she could honestly admit that she understood some of his reasons for not saying anything. However, she still wished he had trusted her enough to tell her the truth. After all, she had revealed several, deeply personal things about herself and his own reticence on that subject did still sting. 

“Are you going to forgive him?” Evelyn sat down on the opposite bed, surveying the roses with a small smile. Cassandra blushed again and nodded shyly.

“I think I am. I-I care about him.” She admitted quietly, still toying with the poem in her hands.

“Good. He’s good for you.” Ignoring Cassandra’s raised eyebrows Evelyn stood up and walked away, leaving her feeling a little bemused, but happy. She smiled a secretive, sly smile and ate a chocolate, enjoying the bitter burst of cacao on her tongue as it mingled with the silky ganache filling. As she savored her sweet, she fingered the little scrap of paper with his chicken scratch on it and decided that she might be able to forgive him, after a suitable amount of groveling of course.

.

.

Varric sprawled on his bed, absently scratching through his abundant chest hair as he listened to the phone ring.

“Hello?” Cassandra answered breathlessly, as if she had to hurry to answer the call, which made him wonder what she had been doing. Had she just stepped out of the shower? Was she damp and flushed with her hair out of that mystifying braid? If he closed his eyes he could imagine her wrapped in a towel, long legs creamy and bare and a rivulet of water traveling from her hair, down her shoulder to disappear into the shadowed valley between her pert breasts. What color would her nipples be? Would they be pale pink or darker to match her honey gold skin? 

“Hello?” She asked again and he realized he had been so distracted by imagining her boobs that he had yet to say anything. Clearing his throat and hoping she would mistake his husky tone for something other than what it was, he answered,

“Did you like the flowers?” He heard her slight intake of breath and the smile in her voice when she answered coyly,

“What flowers?”

“Don’t be that way, you know exactly what flowers I’m talking about. The roses, chocolates, and the poem.” She laughed throatily into the phone and the sound vibrated across his skin, igniting all his nerves and traveling straight to his already painfully alert cock. He grumbled to himself and adjusted his erection, still awaiting her reply.

“Oh, _those_ flowers.” She paused tactfully, just long enough to make him lean forward in anticipation, hard-on momentarily forgotten. “Yes, I loved them. Thank you Varric.”

“It was nothing.” He was humbled by the wave of relief that rushed through him in response to her demure approval, but it didn’t really do anything to abate his growing arousal. “So what were you up to before I called?” He meant to be subtle, but as usual, his glib tongue failed him in her presence and she gleefully took the opportunity to tease him about his suggestive question.

“Oh, just some naked yoga.”

“What!?” He couldn’t have acted nonchalant if he wanted to, because all of his available blood supply rushed south as his creative mind painted a wonderfully detailed picture of her naked and slightly sweaty, face flushed from activity and need as she seductively beckoned to him–

His vivid fantasy was interrupted by her laugh again, all light and teasing and sounding exactly like it had before. While he was extremely grateful she was not only talking, but joking with him again, he was also disgruntled by her apparently new found love of torturing him with impossibly sexy images. Or had he been torturing himself?

“Oh very funny.” He groused into the phone, which just made her laugh more. Cassandra was thoroughly enjoying teasing him for a change and she could understand why he took such pleasure from doing the same to her. She lounged on her couch, grateful that he couldn’t see her tell-tale impish grin when she said,

“Well, it was only _mostly_ naked.” Varric’s entire body gave another hot throb and he groaned into the phone while she let out delighted chuckle.V

“You’re going to be the death of me woman. I think you need to make it up to me.” She snorted playfully and he smiled at the sound, completely enchanted by her. Just her.

“Oh really? I owe _you_? I would disagree.” He grinned at their lively banter, noting that he felt more unrestrained now that the weight of his secret was off his shoulders.

“It’s alright to admit when you’re wrong Seeker and right now, you’re wrong.”

“Pft! I am never wrong.” He snorted at that and much to his surprise, she giggled. It was an incongruous sound when he imagined her sharply angled face, but he knew it would soften everything about her and reveal the passionate woman beneath it. He wanted to hear it again.

“I beg to differ and I’ll prove it to you, but you have to come to my place for dinner this weekend. Saturday at seven.”

“I would love to Varric.” He laid there contemplating the way she quickly acquiesced to his request; it was quiet and shy and slightly in awe of the romance he offered. It made him mad for her, that any man should have overlooked her; they had completely failed as a sex by disregarding the jewel that she was. She was something rare and strong, but sweet and spicy too, like a peppery Antivan wine that soothed you one moment and lit you on fire the next. She deserved better than his callous handling of her heart and he was determined to show her just how special she was to him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric eats. . . .pizza. Maker, get your mind out of the gutter people! And Cassandra wears a dress and blurts out her secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NSFW*
> 
> This is my first time writing anything like this so be gentle! (also any pointers are appreciated)
> 
> Kudos/comments are also welcome and give me a shout out if you see any mistakes.

Cassandra fidgeted outside Varric’s apartment, smoothing her hands over her dress and worrying her lip with her teeth. She rarely wore dresses and only had two in her entire wardrobe, a dreary black dress reserved solely for funerals and this, a form-fitting, navy blue sheath dress. It was modest, but the ivory lace adorning the shoulders and sides made her feel elegant and accentuated her lithe figure. It had been bought purely on a whim, so lovely she hadn’t been able to pass it up even though she knew she would probably never wear it. Now she worried that it was too fancy for the dinner Varric had planned, but she knew she didn’t have the time to rush home and change. Grumbling about her indecisiveness, she pressed the doorbell and listened to the answering chime and determined footsteps that echoed within the apartment.

Varric opened the door eagerly, intent on lavishing her with outlandish compliments that would make her roll her eyes, but when he saw her all he could do was gape. She was stunning; the dress she wore clung to her muscular curves and highlighted her legs. _Maker, those legs though,_ he thought as he greedily devoured their length, from her nude heels to her shapely calves and the exposed inch of pale thigh. He continued his upward path, lingering on her trim waist and breasts, the little v slit making him want to taste her skin with his tongue. When their eyes met he gleaned it all in a second, how she bit her lip shyly and avoided his gaze; she was nervous and worried. Her quiet unease made him break his silence and he quickly took her hand, giving her palm a reassuring caress with his fingers.

“Cass, you look-” He let out a short whistle, “Amazing. You look hot.” She let out a self-conscious laugh and rubbed her free hand over her hip. His eyes followed the move and he let out an appreciative growl. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a hot kiss there, nipping her palm with his teeth. Cassandra gasped at the quick bite of pain and the rush of heat she felt in the backs of her knees. Varric saw the lust on her face, how her eyes went glassy and her chest heaved unsteadily. It wiped away all trace of nerves, and made him grin wolfishly, but he didn’t press his advantage. _Slow down Tethras,_ he reminded himself and still holding her hand he pulled her into his apartment.

Cassandra followed Varric silently, mind whirling and numb from the unexpected onslaught of desire still pounding through her veins. Distantly she was aware of beaten hardwood floors, comfortable, leather furniture, masculine colors, and a wall covered with old looking typewriters on industrial style shelves. There was also the smell of pizza in the air and she saw wine glasses sitting on the counter, but she was more concerned with how she felt than in his choice of décor or food.

It felt as if she were on fire. The heat of his hand around hers combined with the memory of his lips and teeth raking across her palm and she felt a fluttering pulse between her legs. Realizing that he was speaking, she forced herself to focus on him which was a mistake, because the sight of his lips moving made her want to taste them. How had it happened that they had yet to kiss?

“Cass?” He eyed her quizzically, taking in her flushed face and slightly parted lips, feeling his own blood leap at the sight of her tongue darting out to wet them.

“I want to kiss you,” She blurted. 

He looked startled, but then grinned again, that knowing predatory smirk that made her want to smack him and kiss him all at the same time. His grin grew and he leaned his shoulder against the wall, casually crossing his arms over his broad chest while he stared at her, eyes raking across her body in a way that made her press her thighs together to ease the growing ache between them.

“Well what’s stopping you?” Varric’s cocked eyebrow and taunting smirk challenged her to make a move and she hesitated only long enough to toe off her heels before striding forward. He straightened as she reached him, right before her lips crashed into his. She swallowed his muffled “oomph” and chased after the moan that followed with her tongue, sliding it along his lips until he opened for her.

Varric had always known that beneath her tough exterior lay the heart and soul of a wildly passionate woman and the way she kissed proved him right. She kissed him like it was their first _and_ last. Like she was saving him and ruining him all at once. But, she was ruining him –ruining him for all other women. Her kiss was intoxicating and addicting and unbearably sweet.

Cassandra’s hold in Varric’s hair tightened and she moaned as their mouths met again. He took advantage of her distraction and quickly switched their positions, pressing her into the wall with his hips and grinding his erection into her heat. With one hand he held her hip, guiding her along his length, while the other slid over the soft material of her dress, stroking her waist before caressing the curve of her breast.

She sighed at the soft touch and arched her back, pushing her breast more firmly into his palm. Varric knew how to take a hint and his questing fingers quickly found the hardened bud of her nipple through the silky fabric and circled it teasingly, not giving her the touch she desired. That earned him a low growl and he found himself grinning up at her even as she glared down at him. Her scowl would have been more effective if she hadn’t been grinding herself in short circles against his cock and they both knew it, but Varric was gentlemanly enough not to mention it. He did chuckle though and obligingly pinched her nipple, which earned him another growl, this one hot and needy.

Cassandra’s world had narrowed down to Varric’s torturous, _glorious_ fingers. They caressed and teased her everywhere. They pinched her extra sensitive nipples, they guided her urgent hips, and they kneaded the curve of her ass. Every glance of his fingers on her skin intensified her aching need, sending it higher and making her tremble. She felt pulled tight, teetering on the sharp edge of pleasure, where one more deliberate touch would hurl her into the waiting abyss of ecstasy.

Varric could feel her trembling beneath him, tense and vibrating as he placed another kiss against her exposed collarbone. So much for slow, but she felt so good. Too good.

“Cass.” He moaned, resting his forehead against her shoulder, taking a moment to collect his breath, praying that she wouldn’t come to her senses. 

Instead of running, Cassandra pushed into him refusing to slow down, wanting more contact, more heat, more _him_. The motion pulled her dress tight across her chest and the rasp of the fabric against her sensitive nipples made her arch her back, repeating the exquisite pleasure. Varric held her hips captive, watching as she enticingly cupped her breasts and toyed with her nipples under his heavy gaze.

The knowledge that she was touching herself made his blood pound thickly in his ears and this time he trembled. With frustrating slowness he ground his erection against her and when her hips jerked helpless against his, he triumphantly breathed,

“Yes.” She bit her lip, enjoying how it made his gray eyes dark. His thick length between her thighs, pressing right _there_ made her knees go weak and she was grateful that he was pinning her to the wall. As irresistible as the pleasure was, it wasn’t enough. Every nerve, every fiber of her being was screaming for release. He had kept her hovering on the tantalizing brink of release for long enough. Her voice was as shaky as her legs felt and her chest heaved as she panted for air.

“Varric.”

“Cassandra. My lovely, lovely Cassandra.” The way he said her name, like a plea and a prayer sent shivers down her spine, making it arch against the wall and push her clit against his cock.

“My zipper.”

“Your zipper?” He asked, his hips stilling and their eyes met. She was panting for him and he felt a surge of primal, masculine satisfaction over that fact. Her hands met his at her hips and she clung to him; pressing her hips to his, urging, demanding that he move again. It was so good, so fucking good to have her against him, bossy and contrary and panting, because of _him_. And as much as he wanted to be inside of her, deep and hard inside of her, her pleasure came first. After all the things he’d fucked up in their relationship, this was one thing he knew he could do right the first time. He bucked his hips hard into her and she let out a strangled sound of pleasure. It was half moan half laugh; a desperately murmured,

 _“Yes.”_ That throaty sound never failed to make all his blood rush due south and this time was no different. He let out a garbled moan of his own and spun her around. He immediately, furiously attacked the zipper, cursing his thick fingers and her height and the haze of desire that made his every movement clumsy and slow. Finally, blessedly, the zipper gave way and he reverently lowered it, exposing her skin inch by creamy inch. As the zipper parted, he pressed hot kisses to the flushed skin along her back, until he was on his knees and his lips were pressed against the twin dimples on either side of her spine. Chuckling quietly he flicked his tongue over them, making her jerk against the wall. 

“Varric.” The sound of his name being moaned from her lips in a plea made him wonder what else he could get her to say and he silently vowed to find out. Without getting up he spun her again and immediately her hands drug through his hair, pulling on the strands and scraping her nails against his scalp. Instinctively he pushed his head into the caress, the rasp of her nails making his skin prickle with need. 

Maker, he needed her.

His own hands tangled desperately in her dress, tugging it free of her hips to pool at her feet where she willingly stepped out of it, mindful of his face and her knees, but he quickly shoved it out of the way and hooked her leg over his shoulder. She whimpered in anticipation and as he looked up he was mesmerized by the sight of her propped against the wall, warm and wet and spread before him like the most deliciously, lace wrapped present he had ever seen. He was delighted to discover that she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples in their tanned glory were hard buds, begging for his mouth, but he refused to be distracted from his ultimate goal, which was further south.

Cassandra burned. Every touch of his skin on hers sent new tendrils of heat coursing through her until her body was wound tighter than she thought possible. Her core throbbed mercilessly, settling into a desperate empty, ache that made her writhe beneath his gaze.

Varric’s broad shoulders shoved her legs apart and she watched through hooded eyes as he rested his scruff cheek against her thigh and pressed kiss after kiss around her clit, never touching her exactly where she needed it most. She twisted restlessly against him, trying to gain the friction she craved as he continued to toy with her, kissing his way around her core. With each scrape of his stubble against her skin and the slide of his tongue against her lace covered flesh, her pleasure was enhanced to an almost painful degree. She was tight, throbbing, needy, and desperate for the release she knew his mouth would bring.

“Varric!” She demanded, moving impatiently against his mouth. “Please.”

Varric wanted to stop time and live in this moment indefinitely. With her hands clenched painfully in his hair, feeling strung out on the high that was her. Her heady scent, the soft warmth of her body, and the sound of her begging for her release. Cassandra _never_ begged, but now she did so willingly. _Please._ And he was more than happy to oblige.

She nearly wept when _finally_ , his tongue traced over the lace of her cheeky underwear, slipping repeatedly over her clit, sending pleasure soaring through her with each little flick of his tongue. It was both pain and exquisite pleasure. She was aching to come and still had a desire to hover in this exact moment forever. Cassandra whined, but held still as he eased her panties down and slid one finger along her slit, gathering the moisture there while his mouth slowly moved closer to her core.

She rocked hard against him and cried out his name when he suddenly surged forward, sucking hard on her clit and plunging that tormenting finger deep inside her heat. A second finger joined the first and they thrust rhythmically in and out of her while his tongue swirled and sucked and flicked her clit until she was meeting his thrusts with her hips and desperately chasing her own release. Her passionate cries turned into a soundless scream as her entire body went rigid, her climax hitting her so hard that it stole the air from her lungs and she saw stars. It went on and on, it raged through her, making her toes curl and her hands clench painfully in his hair. Every muscle and nerve tightened and she clenched repeatedly over his slowly thrusting fingers, each inward slide prolonging her pleasure and sending sparks through her.

As she floated down she released his hair and gently massaged his scalp, smiling sheepishly down at him where he still knelt at her feet. He answered her grin with one of his own and still meeting her eyes, removed his hand from between her legs and slid them into his mouth. She blushed hard, but didn’t look away, amazed to feel the stirrings of desire again as she watched him savor her taste on his fingers.

Cassandra realized that he was still fully dressed and she barely held back a snort of amusement; it was definitely time to remedy that. At her urging he stood and her fingers began to unbutton his shirt. He stood close with his cock pressing against her hip, his eyes devouring her, watching wordlessly as she undressed him. Which of course was when the alarm to the oven went off, it’s shrill beep startling them both. He let out a frustrated growl and kissed her hotly before pulling away and marching towards the kitchen.

Cassandra quickly pulled back on her dress, struggling to zip it at least partway so that it wouldn’t fall off before following Varric. The moment, the perfect, sizzling, passionate bubble was burst, but she didn’t mind. As amazing at it had been and as wonderful as Varric was, Cassandra didn’t know if she was ready for everything –even though less than five minutes ago she had been. Soon, she reasoned, but not quite yet. _Maybe after pizza,_ she thought with a mischievous grin.

While Varric puttered about the kitchen, grabbing plates and pulling a golden pizza out of the oven, Cassandra silently grabbed the wine –a sweet red, her favorite of course– and opened it, pouring herself a glass.

“Varric, would you like a glass of wine?” He sent her a small grin over her shoulder and nodded.

“Yes please.” As she poured, she was aware of how intimate this felt. How right. There was no awkwardness, just quiet contentment and happiness. She watched him over the rim of her glass, moving easily around the kitchen and preparing their meal. He was solid and warm and it should have scared her to realize that she wanted this for the rest of her life. That she wanted him for the rest of her life. Puttering around the kitchen or pinning her to the wall. Either way. That realization made her heart swell and she bit her lip to stem the words that tried to burst from them.

_I love you._

Varric whirled around and stared at her in surprise, his eyes huge.

“Do you mean that?” Cassandra was quite dazzled by the flare of hope and warmth from his eyes and it took her a moment to answer.

“Mean what?”

“That you loved me.”

Cassandra clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. _Had she said that out loud?_

“Yes you did.”

“Oh Maker.” She groaned, burying her red face in her hands. This could _not_ be happening. With her face covered she missed Varric moving around the bar until he was there gently prying her hands free. He held them captive in his grasp and stared earnestly into her eyes.

“Cassandra, did you mean it?” She looked into his gray eyes, sifting carefully through the emotions displayed in them and was completely overwhelmed by what she saw. There was hope and worry, nervousness, and beneath all of that was love. It was impossible; it was too soon, too fast, but she couldn’t lie to him.

“I did– do. I do.” She swallowed her own nerves, this moment having been sprung on them unexpectedly. “I love you Varric.” Her next breath was forced out of her lungs in an unexpected grunt as Varric crushed her to his chest. He buried his head into her shoulder and she felt him draw several deep, shaky breaths in, his shoulders heaving unsteadily with the effort. Neither one spoke and while he took comfort in the crook of her neck, she trailed her fingers through his hair and down his back, quietly soothing his raging emotions.

When he did pull back she smiled softly at him, her hands still tangled in his hair. His hands clutched at her hips, bruising and desperate as he stared at her, his eyes a little wild.

“Cass– I–” He let out a little growl of frustration and brought their foreheads together. He, someone who words never failed, was speechless. After everything between them, that she could forgive him and _love_ him, it astounded him. He felt humbled and overwhelmed and completely unable to properly express how he felt. Everything that came to mind felt inadequate, but he had to try.

“I don’t deserve you. I’m so sorry I hurt you and I don’t think I’ll ever make it up to you. I never expected this, for you to love me and I don’t know–” He stopped and cleared his throat harshly, the words nearly choking him in their desperation to break free. But he had to do this right; she deserved this at least. She deserved more, a grand proclamation off a roof top, but his cramped kitchen smelling of pizza and wine would have to do. He pulled back slightly and clasped her hands tightly in his, trying to convey the depth of his own feelings through his eyes and the simple touch.

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You are strong and fierce, with a passionate, generous soul and I am humbled that you would chose to give me your heart. I vow to protect it to the utmost of my ability and pray that you will forgive me if my own fumbling hands hurt it. I know I will make more mistakes, but hope that you, in all your affection will continue to give me second chances when I do fuck up.

“I have nothing to offer you in return. Nothing but laughter and teasing. Kisses,” He placed a quick one on her tightly knotted hands. “Quiet nights reading to you and wine. I can give you wine.” That earned him a quiet snort of laughter and he gave her a swift grin before continuing. “What I cannot offer you is my heart–” She gasped quietly, but he forged on before she could pull away. “Because you already have it. It’s been yours since you so passionately defended romance and true love. You constantly surprise me and make me want to be a better person for you. Maker knows that that is the cheesiest thing I have ever said or written, but it’s true. Cassandra, I love you.”

Varric cautiously raised his eyes to hers once more and before he could do anything else she launched herself at him. Her arms wrapped tightly about his shoulders and her long legs locked themselves around his waist. She clung to him as her shoulders heaved with her sobs and her tears soaked through his shirt. Varric stumbled slightly under her unexpected weight before using his own considerable strength to support her and move towards the living room. He tipped them onto his couch and still she refused to let go, but thankfully her sobs had subsided. Their roles had reversed; she nuzzled into his neck and he traced the ridge of her spine through her dress, content to hold her while she collected herself.

Gradually she relaxed against him, adjusting their position so she sat sideways in his lap, her legs dangling off the couch and her head just below his chin. Varric almost missed her hushed question when she asked,

“What does this mean? For us?” He shrugged and resumed his stroking of her back.

“What do you want it to mean? For me– I want to be with you in whatever way you will let me. Though I’m hoping to be more than friends, considering what we’ve been through and what we’ve done.” She snorted and pinched his side gently. For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to continue, but then she did, her voice quiet but sure.

“I would like that as well Varric.” He chuckled and held her closer, his eyes drifting shut as he breathed in her vanilla scent and contemplated how to stop time. Her warm, heavy weight in his arms was the best blanket in the world and he felt her limbs slowly relax as she too drifted towards sleep. “I love you Varric.” Her sleep muddled murmur made him smile and he gently hugged her before settling back into the cushions. His last thought before sleep claimed him was, _good._


End file.
